


Retrospective

by storybook_rift



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, i’d tag for the prince/queen vanessa but it’s rlly not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-11-09 07:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20849837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storybook_rift/pseuds/storybook_rift
Summary: A look into the Prince’s time in and out of Queen Vanessa’s cellar.





	Retrospective

**Author's Note:**

> don’t ask how I wrote 6.5k for this  
(ᴀʟsᴏ, ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴀ sᴏɴɢ ʀᴇғᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ; ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ ɪᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀʟsᴏ ᴍʏ sᴏᴜʟ)

A bouquet of flowers - Prince Luke had wanted to surprise his dearest Princess Vanessa with a bouquet of flowers, and that was all. He had paid the florist a short visit, only barely making small talk with the young lady before skipping his way back to the manor. However, when he arrived at his home, his luck was not short of haste in making certain that everything was crumpled.

Upon entering the chateau, the halls were dead silent. This was odd to the prince; typically, the quiet chatter of his servants or the trilling meow of his pet cat would echo off the walls, but today there was none of it - the quiet took the place of any noise that could have been. The click of his boots against the wooden floor was the only sound that reverberated through the manor.

It was only once the prince reached the second floor of the manor that he realized what felt off.

Now, in these halls, the sound of distant, muffled sobbing was heard. Worse yet, it was Princess Vanessa’s voice. Nervous for his princess, Prince Luke had darted about the top floor, searching for the source. His search led him to the bedroom, where although the prince wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, he was positive he hadn’t expected this.

His princess’s long, silky blonde hair was frayed and tangled, and tears streaked her soft porcelain face. Her hands had curled into claws which gripped her sobbing face in agony. The prince approached his love with caution, flowers in one hand and his other outstretched comfortingly. He had placed his hand on her shoulder, but almost immediately she hit it away, her green eyes flitting up to glare at him. He stared unto his princess in shock. She was furious at him, but for what? He had done nothing wrong.

Then Princess Vanessa called the guardsmen to take him away. Stunned, confused, and grabbed firmly by both arms by the guards, he dropped the bouquet of flowers in his struggling. He cried out to Vanessa, but his words fell on deaf ears. It wasn’t until the guards dragged him into the cellar and chained him against the wall that Prince Luke realized that his princess may have misinterpreted his visit to the florist as something much different.

How long had he been down there now? An hour? Maybe two? He allowed himself to admit that he wasn’t quite sure. But what he _ was _ sure of was that this whole misunderstanding would blow over soon. Prince Luke had known that his princess got a little… _ dramatic _ at times… but in the end, they had always made up. Sure, the situation wasn’t looking too bright right now - in fact, it looked heaps darker than any of their past conflicts - but it should look up eventually.

The cellar was cold, dark and muggy. Only a single candle mounted on a wall adjacent to him shone flickering light; as a result, the aged wood barrels that stacked against the walls cast long, wavering shadows. A leaky copper pipe, one of the many that streaked across the ceiling, occasionally let a droplet of water fall into a growing puddle on the concrete floor. Other than the occasional _ plop _ of water, the cellar was dead silent.

The prince had been chained against one wall of the basement by his upper arms. The chains that bound him were bulky and uncomfortable, and they held him above the ground by at least a foot. The hard steel quickly imprinted itself into his weak arms, sending waves of numbness through his system as blood flow was cut off. Although Prince Luke hadn’t been locked away in the basement for too long, he felt it was already taking a toll on his looks. His once-fluffy caramel hair was matted down by the humidity of the basement, and it almost seemed as though dust had already begun to settle on his shoulders.

But it was fine. This was all fine. After all, Princess Vanessa always came back around eventually. And Prince Luke was willing to wait until she did for as long as it would take.

-

Once the second day came around, the prince began to fret. At least, he thought it was the second day. He couldn’t exactly tell, for there were no windows in the cellar to tell him when the sun rose and set.

Princess Vanessa hadn’t paid him so much as a visit, much less offered any food or water. His hunger gnawed at his insides, leaving the prince feeling hollow and empty. Even the candle that once gave off flickering light had died, and thus Prince Luke was left in the quiet darkness. He wished that someone - anyone - would trek down into the cellar and bring him _ something. _

…No. He didn’t need anything. His princess would come and retrieve him soon, and then everything would go back to normal. That bouquet of flowers had to have been worth something, right? Perhaps she’d notice it displaced there on the ground; realizing he had only tried giving her a gift, she’d snatch up the keys to the basement and run down in a frenzied worry.

Right. That’s how it’d happen. He’d be rescued soon enough.

-

By what he believed to be the fourth day, Prince Luke wondered if his dear, sweet princess was blind.

He had never before felt so weak, so _ pathetic_, in his life. He wasn’t sure what had happened, but the cellar had gone from humid to freezing so quickly that winter may as well have arrived overnight. The sudden chill turned the prince’s body numb. He shivered profusely, and the chains that bound him clattered against the wall with every little twitch of his body.

_ Maybe Princess Vanessa has forgotten about me, _ he wondered. But the princess was not forgetful. No, she remembered everything. It was impossible that he’d left her mind, especially not after she had locked him away like this. So then where was she? Why had she not yet visited him? Was it possible that she really left him there for dead? She wouldn’t do that, would she?

No. She would never! The prince silently scolded himself for even thinking up something so fallacious. His princess loved him as he loved her. She would come back for him. He was certain of it.

As fate would have it, she did visit him that day. Though, she looked nothing like the Vanessa that the prince remembered. Her blonde hair looked as though it hadn’t been brushed in weeks, and her royal emerald dress was terribly wrinkled and tattered. She stood hunched over, as though she had done nothing but cry for the past few days.

Upon the princess’s arrival, Prince Luke couldn’t hold back his joy. Happily, he called out to her, thanking the gods that she had arrived when she did. The prince exhaustively described how his stay in the cellar had been and how he was more than eager to finally be released and return to the manor. But Princess Vanessa did not meet his gaze, not for a long minute. Instead, she stared blankly at the wall, as though she might find more interest in the crumbling stone bricks than her love. When she did turn to him, however, the prince was met with a pair of cold, dead eyes. Dark bags collected under them, making it apparent that she very well may _ have _spent the past few days doing nothing but sobbing. Where Prince Luke had once found warmth in her forest green orbs, he now found seething rage.

Wait, rage?

Suddenly, the princess gripped him tightly by his shoulders and shook him violently. His head slammed against the stone wall behind him with every jerk, sending waves of pain throughout his body. The prince cried out, hoping for the torture to end, but the princess only dug her nails deeper into his flesh, continuing her outburst.

Only after the prince’s mind began to grow fuzzy did she let up at last. Dazed, confused, and with no strength to look up at the woman who had just assaulted him, the prince stared down at the frosty ground of the cellar. Through the deafening sound of his own heartbeat and ringing ears, he heard the pitter-patter of pacing footsteps in water, his princess muttering something incoherent to herself. She was still there. Why? Wasn’t she done with him? He was stunned. What had he done to warrant this? His head throbbed with pain, and he winced.

For a moment, the cellar became dead silent. And then—

“FOOLISH PRINCE!”

The prince flinched at the sudden shrill shriek. Stiffening, he prepared himself for another round of beating, but it never came. Instead, he heard Princess Vanessa storm out of the cellar, slamming the wooden doors behind her and leaving Prince Luke alone in the darkness once again.

And so he wept.

-

The next day was odd.

Prince Luke remained tense and weary through the morning, putting up his defenses in case the princess decided to further pronounce her grief in visiting him again. His head still ached from the day before, and the last thing he wanted was a repeat of that. A repeat never came, though, and the more time passed, the greater the prince’s puzzlement became.

Why had his princess been so violent to him the previous day? Could his visit to the florist have really made her that upset? None of his theories added up to him. Sure, Princess Vanessa had always been rather protective of him, but she’d never had a reaction of this magnitude before, unless she’d always been like this and the prince hadn’t noticed, which was unlikely.

The prince’s thoughts lingered over that one theory as a wave of fatigue passed over him.

Was it possible the prince had been blind to her true nature this whole time? Unlikely, sure, but plausible. As the prince started to drift off, a memory began to resurface…

There came a knock on the cellar door, and Prince Luke was jolted awake. Not the cellar door that led to the manor, though - the knock came from the entrance outside of the manor, from their yard. A shuffling sound echoed on the walls of the cellar.

A large pile of snow fell onto the steps leading to the surface, and with it came tumbling a small figure reminiscent of a Dweller of his forest. The prince’s face lit up. Someone had come to rescue him after all! _ But what of the snow? _

The villager adorned a large cloak, several scarves, and a mask resembling that of a fox. They quickly scrambled up; as they shut the doors that they had just entered through, the cellar went silent. Dusting the snow off their crimson cloak, the villager sighed. It only took about a second for the villager to spot him. 

From beneath the fox mask, the prince saw their eyes widen in shock. They immediately ran to him, their boots splashing the water of the growing puddle of water on the ground.

“Prince Luke?!” the villager cried out in a panicked shock.

A creak came from the floor above them, and the prince shushed the small person. The last thing he needed right now was for Vanessa to find out they had an intruder. What’s more, an intruder that was talking to her prince. He waited a few seconds staring up at the ceiling before glancing back down to the townsperson, who was now shuffling through their cloak. The prince looked on, curious, as the small person searched and searched for… something.

After what could have been an entire minute, the Dweller pulled out a roll of bread and a flask of water.

For a moment, Prince Luke was speechless. He simply gaped at the food that the villager held up for him. _ Food. And water, too. _ Maybe he’d survive his stay in the cellar after all. Relieved, he chuckled incredulously. He might have even cried if he’d had the tears for it.

The Dweller paused, holding up a finger. As quietly as they could, the prince’s fox-masked savior dragged a crate from one end of the room to the wall where he was chained. Hoisting themselves up onto the crate, they stood up and held out the roll of bread to him.

Awkwardly, Luke leaned forward, taking a bite of the roll, then another, and another. It wasn’t long at all before the roll was completely gone; until now, the prince had underestimated just how starved he was. Seemingly satisfied, the villager held out the flask of water. The same procedure was repeated, with the prince downing the entire flask of water in just a few sips.

Putting the flask back away somewhere in their cloak, the Dweller sat on the side of the crate.

“How are you feeling?” they whispered.

Prince Luke tried clearing his throat to speak, but it instead came out as a flurry of coughs. The coughs eventually subsided, and he was able to speak in a low, raspy voice.

“Better.”

For the moment, that was all he could manage. But at least it wasn’t an understatement.

“Why are you down here?” the Dweller queried. Their short legs swayed back and forth on the crate.

The prince opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. _ Why _ was _ he down there? _ He’d done nothing wrong, especially nothing to justify a fate sealed away in the cellar until the end of his days.

“I don’t know,” Prince Luke admitted. “She… Vanessa… she put me down here without good reason.”

Suddenly, the townsperson froze in place. Their dark eyes widened from underneath the fox mask, staring directly into his.

“Do you know what Princess Vanessa has done to the world above?”

The prince shook his head, concern flooding his mind. Oh, gods. What had she done to their village? She’d better not have taken out her anger on them. If she had… His mind traveled back to the snow for a second, and only a second, before the villager spoke up. 

“She froze it. She froze it all. Caked the ground with frost. Turned the rainfall into snow. She…” the Dweller looked down, “She turned every other Dweller into statues of ice. Frozen there, stuck in time. They’re all dead.” The Dweller became choked up for a second, and the prince watched as teardrops fell from their mask. “I-I think I’m the last of us.”

The prince stared at the villager in complete shock. Sure, he’d expected her to take her anger out on the townspeople. He’d easily predicted that, of course. But his princess turning to _ witchcraft? _Prince Luke felt an odd combination of feelings boiling deep within him: Fury towards the princess for lashing out onto their villagers, sadness for the lost townspeople and their forgotten children, revulsion for his dearest Vanessa turning to the dark arts to alleviate her “grief.”

He felt sick. How _ could _ she? She should have known that wandering down the path of dark magic would get her in over her head. She’d drown in it. She’d never recover from such a venture. _ She’d lose herself, and then what would be left? His princess would be completely gone. _

_ Completely gone. _

A memory bubbled up into his mind…

~

“Would you look at all those stars!” the prince exclaimed.

He and his lovely Princess Vanessa stood on their balcony, stargazing. The view from their own home was by far the best in the entirety of the Dweller’s Forest. The canopy of trees broke away here, allowing for a clear view of the cosmos above. Pale moonlight shone upon them, illuminating their terrace.

“They’re so beautiful, aren’t they?” Vanessa purred, pulling him closer.

Prince Luke smiled, pulling her in as well.

“Beautiful, yes, but not quite as beautiful as you, my dear.”

Princess Vanessa giggled. The prince felt himself melt inside. _ She’s so cute when she laughs. _

“You’re so flattering! What did I ever do to deserve a man like you, Lukey?”

_ Lukey. _The prince silently chuckled at the nickname as his attention was redirected back to the night sky overhead. Mesmerized, he watched how the stars twinkled. He’d always been interested in astronomy, but since his legal studies took up most of his time, he’d never had a chance to pursue it. He sighed. They really were beautiful.

“Lukey~♪! Look!” Vanessa marveled, pointing up at the sky. “A shooting star!”

Indeed, as he quickly noticed, there was a shooting star. A single one, streaking across the sky. It was gone almost as soon as it had come, though, leaving the couple mystified in its wake.

“Well, you know how it is!” the princess chimed, gazing up at him expectantly.

The prince, however, didn’t know what his love expected. He gazed down at her, confused, for a few seconds before she clarified herself.

“You have to make a wish!” she explained half-impatiently.

“Oh!” Prince Luke mused, almost embarrassed that he hadn’t realized that just a second ago. “Of course.”

Before he could make his wish, Princess Vanessa spoke up.

“I wish that you’d never leave me, and that we can be happy together forever!”

She smiled at him, her green eyes sparkling with the reflection of the stars above. The princess wrapped her arms around him in a hug, which the prince gratefully returned. A cool breeze washed over them as she loosened herself from the embrace to look upwards at him.

“You have the same wish too, don’t you?”

For a second, Prince Luke hesitated. But only a second.

“Of course I do, sweetheart.”

~

The sound of footsteps startled the prince out of his thoughts. The click of heels against the wooden floors of the manor above them reverberated in the cellar. It sounded as though they were approaching the staircase to the basement. It was Princess Vanessa, no doubt, and she was angry. 

The Dweller had heard the footsteps too and quickly began to fret. Jumping off of the crate, they recklessly shoved it to one corner and made a break for the staircase to the manor’s yard. The prince watched their struggle to open the doors to the outside anxiously, glancing at the door to the manor every other second.

_ Click, click, click. _

As the sound of footsteps rapidly became louder, the prince felt his apprehension grow just as fast.

_ Click, click, click, click. _

She was speeding up. The Dweller had not yet made much progress in opening the doors. Had the snow trapped them in? The prince desperately wished he could break free from the shackles and help them, but…

_ Click. Click. Click. _

She was coming down the stairs now, no doubt. Prince Luke’s heart beat out of his chest as the townsperson quit struggling with the door and instead took to finding a hiding spot.

_ Click… Click. _

The footsteps stopped just behind the doors to the cellar. The Dweller hid themselves behind a stack of barrels. The prince angled his head down, closing his eyes and preparing for the princess to burst through the door.

She fiddled with the lock on the door for a second before an affirmative, final click unlocked the door.

There was silence for just a moment. And then the doors to the cellar slowly opened.

Prince Luke heard her slowly step foot in the partially flooded basement. Somehow, he felt the cellar became even colder with her mere presence. As she walked, her heels splashed up and froze water with every gradual, meticulous step. Eventually making her way to the center of the cellar, she stopped. The prince half-expected her to lash out at him again, but she didn’t. Instead, she lit a candle perched on one wall.

The prince lifted his head slightly, just so that he could at least see her shoes. He only needed to know where she was in the cellar, reassurance that the last Dweller was safe.

Now she approached him. Instinctually, he faced even further downwards, not daring to look in her eyes. The chains that bound the prince’s arms felt almost tighter now. Stopping in front of him, she put a cold, clawed hand to his face. 

“Why won’t you look at me, Lukey?” she cooed. Her grip tightened on his face, and he winced as her sharpened, claw-like nails nearly broke open his flesh. 

“Am I not good enough for you?”

Without warning, she pulled his head upwards, tearing the prince’s gaze from the ground and forcing him to look her in the eyes. Her stare was cloudy with anger, and the whites of her eyes were much more bloodshot red. The prince felt something hateful boiling deep within him.

“Well?” she hissed.

The cellar fell silent for a moment. Much too scared to think for himself, Prince Luke opened his mouth to whisper a response - more than likely an apology. However, he was quickly interrupted by something else. A lone sniffle from somewhere in the far corner of the room: the Dweller!

Swiftly, Princess Vanessa tore herself away from the prince, howling, “WHO’S THERE?”

The cellar became silent once more, though this time the atmosphere was much more tense. Slowly, the princess approached the stack of barrels that the noise had come from. Gradually and stealthily, she moved in on her prey like a skilled hunter. Horrified, yet unable to stop the princess, the prince watched on.

Princess Vanessa moved in on the corner, becoming closer and closer until she was just hovering over where the villager should be.

In one fell swoop, she scooped up the last Dweller by its cloak with her claws. Terrified, they writhed around in her grasp, letting out a strangled cry. However, they were quickly cut off as they were frozen solid by the witch. Just as they had described their lost companions, the Dweller became a statue of ice, forever frozen in time.

Briefly, Princess Vanessa studied her latest victim, turning the small creature around in her hands. After a moment, she sighed, resting them against the stack of barrels she had found them in.

“Why would you do that?” Prince Luke choked out. Almost immediately, he regretted speaking in that moment, but the prince couldn’t help himself. She had just murdered an innocent townsperson like some wild animal and with no remorse.

“Why…?” the princess echoed. “Why?”

She stomped her way back to him, once again grasping his face in her claws.

“YOU DID THIS TO ME!” she shrieked. “YOU UNFAITHFUL, UNGRATEFUL, PITIFUL EXCUSE OF A PRINCE!”

With that, she bashed his head into the wall behind him and stormed away, picking up her newest ice statue on her way out. Even the candle she lit on her way in was extinguished in her wake. The cellar fell silent once more.

The prince felt his heart beat out of his chest. He was astounded at how his princess had handled this whole situation so _ wrong_. It was all her fault, of course, yet he was the one here taking the blame for it. He felt his throat sink deeper and deeper and he became choked up, feeling tears coming on. It was impossible to think that his relationship with Vanessa was to end like this, after all they’d been through. He had done everything perfect to instruction. He had played to her every will, yet he still found room to mess up. There had to be something left in Vanessa that was willing to forgive him, right? He _ had _ to be lying to himself.

Deep down, though, the prince knew the truth.

-

Four days later, Prince Luke had given up on the idea that the princess might come back for him.

He knew that, by about now, he didn’t have much time left until he either died of dehydration or hypothermia. The last Dweller bringing him food and water had been purely a strike of luck, and he knew that nothing like that would happen again. It was only a matter of time until one or the other got to him. Vanessa had gotten her way; he would die down there in the cellar, completely helpless.

The freezing cold of the cellar chilled the prince to his bones, completely numbing his senses while biting into his flesh. The iciness of his prison was the only thing he found himself being able to focus on when he wasn’t thinking about Vanessa. It was cold. So cold. And he was oh-so pathetic. Had it gotten chillier since Vanessa had last visited him? He didn’t know. But he did know that the frost was eating away at his life force, and that soon he’d completely blend into the ice.

The frost not only ate away at his physical self; it consumed his mental state as well. Being trapped in a freezing cold cellar, completely powerless to alleviate the conditions around him didn’t exactly do wonders for his sanity or morality. He wanted the pain to end. He so desperately wanted to hurry up and die so he would no longer feel so feeble. _ No one should have to go through this, _he thought.

With his sanity went his ability to tell reality from hallucination. Whether the hallucinations were caused by hypothermia or sleep deprivation, he wasn’t sure, but they sure were vivid. He observed a lit candle that gave off no light, a crate that repeatedly told him that Vanessa had gone mad (even though he already knew that), and even a pipe on the ceiling that slithered about like a snake.

The only thing that seemed to stay consistent through the silent madness of his imprisonment was his shadow. It looked the exact same was as it had on day one of his stay in the cellar. The shadow simply loomed beneath him, perfectly still and calm, as though nothing had changed at all. Suspiciously, though, there was no light source to cast it. But as of lately, it had also seemed to have a mind of its own, so the prince easily shrugged it off as one of his hallucinations. A lively shadow that’s not casted by light. That was new, but did it really matter anymore?

That was exactly it. None of this mattered anymore. At this point, all he cared was that every passing second brought him closer and closer to the eternal embrace of death. Then, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore: no more Vanessa, no more lost Dwellers, no more cold, clammy cellar. His unjust imprisonment and eventual demise would be forgotten, and he’d be able to live a peaceful afterlife. What did it matter if he was hallucinating about his own shadow? It simply didn’t.

Content with his view on the end of his days, the prince closed his eyes and tried to relax himself in the hopes of getting even a minute of sleep. Every time he had tried to relax before now, his pain and thoughts would only roar louder, but today they quieted to a dull chatter. Maybe it was finally his time. He hoped so.

Satisfied with that final remark, the prince allowed his thoughts to slip away into the blank nothingness of the unconscious world. And thus, he himself faded away.

-

And then he was his shadow.

He wasn’t sure how it had happened, but when he awoke from what he thought was a well-needed nap, he was on the floor of the cellar. Slowly, he had sat up, confused as to what had happened overnight. And then he looked at his reflection in the water of the cellar.

Large, glowing yellow eyes stared back at him. He blinked. _ Who was this person, looking back at him? This wasn’t him, right? _ He couldn’t tell. Any discernible features of himself had been blended away into the shadow. The only thing that truly remained had been the outline of his hair which, too, had been dissolved away into an odd sort of ghostly fluff.

Slowly, he reached up a taloned hand to touch the fluff.

_ Soft. _

The former prince took this opportunity to look over his new form. The first thing he noticed was that he no longer had legs to walk on. In the place of where his legs would have been was a long, snake-like tail that faded away at the tip. His arms had remained mostly the same (they were now simply skinnier), but his hands were not. They looked much more like talons now.

Another thing that the spirit noticed was that he could hardly feel anything anymore. The once deadly, piercing chill of the cellar had been dulled into a soft cold, feeling much more like an autumn breeze than the very force that had killed him. He also even quicker noticed that he was no longer breathing. He had no heartbeat.

He was dead, of course. How else would he have gained this new, ghostly form? It was just jarring. Very jarring.

The deeper that this realization settled in, the more questions came to the former prince’s mind.

_ Could he leave the cellar now? Could he travel through walls? Could he now see what his village looked like? Where would he go now? What would happen now? What would happen to him? Surely, he couldn’t maintain this form forever. _

Shaking his head to clear his mind of all questions but one, he focused on the current most important one: could he leave the cellar?

The ghost slowly raised himself from the floor of the flooded basement. Naturally, levitating was a strange experience, but he was sure he’d get used to it. After all, not being able to feel his legs now felt no different to just a day ago. Slithering his way to the exit of the cellar, he pushed on the doors, but to no avail.

_ Alright, let’s try question two, then. _

Confidently, he pushed his body through the doors, feeling the freeze of the snow for just a second before emerging above the ground. _ Perfect, _the ghost thought, grinning. He was free.

But not quite free yet. He’d have to fully leave the manor in order to be truly that. Looking around at the snow-covered courtyard, he remembered exactly where he was. He was on the side of the manor. All he needed to do was find the lake, get across it and leave through the manor gates.

Luckily for him, it wasn’t snowing. He could see clearly where the frozen lake was, and he quickly zipped that way. Past the entrance to the manor, which had been blocked by snow, and the icy statues that guarded it. Past the icebound lake, which had been lightly frosted over by snow. And then, at last, the spirit passed through the disused gate to the manor.

Finally away from the manor, the former prince could see the devastation that which the princess caused. Huge spikes of ice jutted from the ground, crowding around the edges of the manor gates. They seemed to form a path stretching outwards, presumably to the village. Snow and frost covered every acre of visible land. As the ghostly prince traveled to the town, he wondered if the entire forest would be like this: trapped in ice for an eternity.

When he finally reached the lost town, the prince noted two things - one good, one bad.

The good news was that just beyond the stone bridge on the south side of town that led to other less populated part of the forest, there was no snow. It appeared as though Princess Vanessa’s terror could only stretch so far, and most of the forest would remain unaffected by her snowy curse.

The bad news was that the village was completely ruined. Frozen statues of bodies scattered the once rich and lively streets. Ice pillars tore entire houses in two, and frost coated the ground that the children would once play on. Even the fruits and grains that the Dwellers had harvested were frozen over, left dejectedly in the merchants’ market stands. It was apparent that many villagers had even tried to board up their houses to keep the chill out, but the icicles hanging from their flower boxes and the dead silence told him a different story.

The Dweller that had visited him in the cellar had not lied; they _ were _ all dead.

The spirit felt horrified. Everything that had been here… everything that they had built up together… was torn down in an instant. And why? The princess was being _ petty_. She committed mass genocide over absolutely _ nothing _ . The former prince felt absolutely disgusted. These innocent people did _ not _ deserve to die this way. They deserved a second chance.

Not being able to stand the ice any longer, the ghost fled across the bridge to the other end of the forest.

This end of the forest was not covered in ice, but it wasn’t all too much better, either. As he roamed this area of the forest for about a week, he noticed that the atmosphere of the place was a lot darker. Plants drooped, large fungi grew around every corner, and even the small swamp had grown into a massive abomination. He soon figured this was due to the number of lost souls from the village roaming the place. Of course, he should have expected that the souls of the villagers would wander about the forest. Where else were they supposed to go? They could never stay in the frozen-over village, yet they could never leave the forest itself; they didn’t know anywhere else. The souls would often approach him and ask questions, not the least common of which being “Are you lost?” and “Do you know what happened to my home?”

After encountering quite a few of these lost Dwellers, the ghostly prince had an idea. A rather outlandish idea, sure, but an idea.

It started with him searching the village homes. As much as he hated being there, surrounded by ice, this was a necessary part of his plan. He would search the homes’ frosted-over rooms - as he would, he’d become accustomed to the sight of ice statue bodies - always searching for one thing: a bedroom or a toy box. He’d look for plush dolls that had been abandoned and gather whichever ones there were, stashing and collecting them. He figured he only needed about twenty or so to begin with.

Then, he’d find a Dweller. Just one for now; the rest would come later. He’d present the Dweller with the plush doll as a vessel for it to inhabit. That way, it could have the chance to live a normal life again. Then, maybe he’d be able to restore the forest somewhat back to its original state. This was what he hoped would happen.

But alas, as it would turn out, the Dweller was not quick to accept the plush doll body. In fact, it didn’t even seem to _ want _it. It didn’t seem to know that he was doing this for its own good. And so, the shadow did the only thing he knew how to do. He decided to negotiate.

He told the soul that if they accepted the plush doll as a body as well as agreeing to work for him, he would build them a new village that would last, completely unthreatened by Vanessa’s rage. This seemed to please the soul, and the deal was sealed. 

This same negotiation was repeated for all twenty of the dolls, and soon enough, building began on the New Dweller’s Village.

-

Even several years later, the forest had not changed much from when the prince’s ghost had first fled Vanessa’s cellar. It was still dark, ominous and foggy, and it still reeked of abandonment, but now it felt more like home. The prince’s ghost had made a home for himself in the hollow insides of a tall tree. His tree home stood right in the center of the forest, where he could manage every corner of the place without ever needing to travel far.

On top of that, his arsenal of Dwellers that he had given bodies to increased greatly. He had even begun sewing their bodies himself in order to accommodate for the increase. Of course, the increase was nothing of simply needing more villagers for his New Dweller’s Village. He had begun using his Dwellers for other things, such as keeping the forest in good shape (or, at least, as far as good shape goes). The Dwellers didn’t seem to mind, though. They still praised him as their savior, regardless of what he put them through.

_ Their savior. _ The prince’s ghost chuckled at the thought. He was no “savior,” as he was only doing the best for his forest. But as time passed, he figured that if they wanted to praise him as a god among men, it would be fruitless to try and stop them. Besides, he enjoyed the praise. It gave his ego a nice boost.

Yet, no matter the worship his people gave him, he was still no holy figure. During his years as a spirit, he had quickly come to learn that his ghostly form was not stable. He needed fuel to burn in order to maintain his form and thus retain his control over the forest. So, naturally, he began snatching and eating the souls of the people who entered the Dweller’s Forest.

Killing unknowing people, consuming their very energy of being and then tossing their bodies wasn’t the greatest hobby that the prince’s shadow had developed during his time as a ghost, but at least it was in good spirits. The unknowing souls’ sacrifices would not be in vain, as he would be able to continue his reign over the Dweller’s Forest with them. But regardless, they were the ones who trespassed in _ his _forest. Naturally, they would have to pay in one way or another. And who was to tell him wrong if that way was murder? In his forest, he was the law.

The prince’s shadow sighed, gazing down upon his forest from the top of one of its highest reaching trees. Sure, his forest was no longer lush and green, but it was his home. And frankly, that was all that mattered to him, because he loved his home very dearly. 

As he surveyed his kingdom, he spotted the patch of his forest that had been frozen over. The prince’s shadow was honestly surprised that the land had remained frozen after all these years. Could it be that the princess who lived inside the manor was still filled with icy rage? It seemed almost impossible that a person could remain furious for so long without tiring, but then he remembered that the being that resided within the manor’s halls was much more of a monster than a regular person.

The prince’s shadow smiled a smile that he knew oozed with bitterness as his memories of the dark, freezing cellar crawled back to him. He vividly remembered how weak and defenseless he had felt, chained there against the wall. Even more vividly, he recalled the piercing pain of the ruthless chill against his being and the visceral terror he felt whenever she approached. A monster was _ exactly _ what she was.

Content with this description of the woman he had once called his “love,” the Dweller’s Forest’s resident Soul Snatcher resigned to himself that he wished to never see the monster that was Princess Vanessa ever again.


End file.
